


would it make you better?

by nuclearmuffins



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders is bad at communication, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hawke is stubborn af, Hawke/Anders Kid, Minor canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearmuffins/pseuds/nuclearmuffins
Summary: Maura Hawke wakes up in the morning to an adorable sight.Originally written for a prompt on r/dragonage.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke
Kudos: 18





	would it make you better?

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I've written in months, bear with me. Sometimes you just want your trash OTP to be fluffy and cute before everything goes to hell, ya know? Minor canon divergence in that I HC Hawke and Anders had a child in between acts 2 and 3.
> 
> Title from Make You Better by the Decemberists.

It was a sweet sight so early in the morning. Maura Hawke was usually a morning person, getting up with the crowing of the roosters and the rising of the sun. In Kirkwall there were no roosters, of course (the nobility of Kirkwall made her get rid of her chickens after too many early morning wake-up calls), but the wails of her infant son usually made up for the absense of that noise. But no crying woke her up this morning, just the soft sound of Anders' voice, leaning over the crib to whisper to Mal. Maura was content to just watch the sight of her unlikely lover, now turned into a surprisingly gentle father despite his apprehensions, before she realized -

"Anders, are you wearing my shirt?"

Maura watched Anders turn towards her at the sound of her voice, his eyes bleary and dragged down with dark circles, before darting his eyes towards his shirt sleeve. She raised an eyebrow as she saw his fingers pick at the intricate embroidery she'd painstakenly stitched over the fine linen, a bouquet of intricately rendered blue-and-purple flowers carefully arranged across the hemline and at the wrists. "I suppose I am," he replied, voice caked with exhaustion. "Sorry, love. Must have been too tired to see whose shirt it was."

She laughed, walking over to him where he stood by Mal's crib. She traced the inches of bare chest that the low neckline exposed, clearly meant for a more _feminine_ figure. She wasn't a short woman either at a rather statuesque five foot ten, but her lover was even taller (and much more of a beanpole in physique), and her shirt left quite a bit more of his body exposed than it would have on her. " _Must have been_ ," she echoed. "It's barely sunrise, you know. Did you actually make it to bed last night, or...?" She remembered all the mornings she'd found him passed out at his desk face-down in his papers, or in front of the fire, sprawled out in front of the dying embers like one of the cats that always seemed to follow him home. She could count the number of times she'd actually woken up in her bed next to Anders over the past month on just one hand.

"Would it surprise you to know I actually did?" he reached up to brush the hair out of her face, fingers softly nudging a few loose chestnut strands aside.

Maura let him tuck a few locks of her hair behind her ear before taking his hand between hers and pressing a kiss against his palm. "Uh huh," she brushed her lips across his knuckles. "Next you'll be telling me it's raining gold in Darktown."

"It's true," he weakly protested, winding his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him. "You're the city's champion, I thought you deserved some more sleep. Maker knows you don't get enough appreciation from the rest of the city." _Maker knows I don't give enough of it to you,_ she thought she heard in his tone.

She reached up to hook her arms around his neck, bringing him in closer to her. His breath was warm against her skin, her lips so close to his jaw she could feel the stubble there. She wanted to whisper into the quiet intimacy, _please just be you in there._ _Please don't slip away from me._ "I don't know about that. I think this right here is all I need." She rested her head in the crook of his neck. "But what _really_ woke you up? You're not much of a rise and shine person like I am. Mal?" She twisted in his arms to look at their son, her lips curling into a smile as she saw him fast asleep, thumb stuffed in his mouth.

"He was already awake when I got up.”

"If it wasn’t Mal, was it… was it a nightmare?" She didn’t want to think that it was, but she’d lost count of the number of times when she’d woken up in the middle of the night to his panicked breaths, and counting down with him to calm down his breathing. Now that she thought of it, it might have been one of the reasons he rarely slept in their bed anymore, to save her from listening to his nighttime screams in his own misguided form of protection. When he sighed, she pulled away from him, " _Anders-_ "

"I don't want you to worry about me."

"That's my _job_ , Anders," she sighed, exasperated, pulling away from him. "I'm your-" she stopped, realizing they'd never quite hammered out what they were to each other. Was she his wife? They technically would have been, under Fereldan common law, but they weren't exactly in Ferelden, were they? Besides, _wife_ seemed like such an insufficient word to describe their relationship. Or _lover_ , or _mother of your child_.

"I'm your _partner,"_ she finally decided. "Please just let me worry about you?" She reached up to touch his cheek, and even as he turned away from her, her hand persistently followed. Finally, he let her hand rest against his face, her fingers feeling the warmth, the soft thrum of life underneath.

“Maura, I...” He trailed off, staring at the ground, before laying his hand on top of hers and leaning into her touch. “I don’t want to drag you into the darkness, love,” he muttered, his voice thick and choked with emotions she couldn’t place. “You deserve more than-”

“I deserve more than an apostate with no future? You’ve given me this speech before, Anders. Too bad. I’m already there,” she laughed a little, maybe in an effort to diffuse the tension that had burst between them. “Anders, I knew exactly what I was getting into when I chose you. You warned me. _Everybody_ warned me, but I’m still here, aren’t I? And I’m not going anywhere.”

With his guard down, she stepped forwards and grabbed a fistful of her own shirt, pulling Anders closer to her and brought his lips down to reach hers. Mornings were terrible for kisses, usually - terrible breaths, hair too tangled to thread fingers through, what would have been the urgency of the moment stifled by the remnants of sleep, but there was something about this kiss in particular that made it sweeter. Even in the cold light of morning, it set a fire, as warm as a hearth, in the pit of her belly.

“Now, as the mistress of this house, I say it’s time for breakfast,” she grinned as she pulled away from him. “I have a demand for eggs and toast, and someone to eat it with.”

"Mmm. It would be better if you cackled for everyone to do your evil bidding."

" _Mwahaha._ Now, _you_ -" she poked her index into his chest. " _You,_ good ser, are getting breakfast, we are going to _talk_ about these things, and I will hear no 'buts' against it."

"But-"

She held up a finger to his lips to smother his complaint. "What did I just say?"

He laughed, the rare sound like absolute music to her ears as he took her hand and kissed it. "I know too well not to argue.”


End file.
